


Investigations of Funny Business

by UniquelyQueer_67



Series: Professor Hunithson and the Band of Misfits Who Refuse to Mind Their Own Damn Business [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Awkward Romance, Comedy, Crack, Crossover, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hogwarts Professors, How Do I Tag, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), Luna Lovegood is a Good Friend, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Protective Merlin, Resurrection, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 11,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniquelyQueer_67/pseuds/UniquelyQueer_67
Summary: Of all the days for Arthur to return "when Albion's need is greatest", why did it have to be in Merlin's first week as a professor at the most prestigious wizarding school in the UK???ORThe one where Merlin and Arthur can't reveal who they really are, but Draco and Harry are trying really hard to figure it out.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Professor Hunithson and the Band of Misfits Who Refuse to Mind Their Own Damn Business [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1535807
Comments: 262
Kudos: 1531





	1. The Daily Prophecy

Harry and Ron were in the middle of a passionate discussion over whether eighth years would have quidditch teams - and, if so, how they would be divided - when Hermione burst into their compartment of the Hogwarts Express. She carried several books that were most likely "too important" to be put in her trunk, with the rest of the things that students didn't even want to look at until term started (thank you very much). She gave Ron a quick peck on the forehead in greeting, and hurriedly sat down next to him, immediately opening up a huge, very-old-looking tome.

"Ancient Runes?" Harry deduced, going by the illegible title of the parchment monstrosity.

Hermione paused her rapid scanning of the pages (having made quite significant progress already) to nod silently in affirmative, before delicately (yet violently) flipping the page.

Harry continued discussing quidditch with his mate uninterrupted (unless you counted the sounds of other students, the quick in-and-out of the sweet trolley, or the engines of the train), until Hermione gave a snooty little  _ scoff _ .

"Merlin's trousers, this'll be  _ brilliant _ ." Ron subtly informed the boy opposite him. He was right, thought Harry; when Hermione scoffed at a book anyone in their right mind fetched the popcorn.

"Whassa matter, 'Mione?" Asked Ron, poking the bear, feigning concern. The young woman sat bolt upright, fixing her boyfriend with a tight-lipped glare.

"A prophetic work," she began. Harry and Ron shared an excited look - Hermione had hated prophecy ever since failing Trelawney's ridiculous classes, "pertaining to Merlin." 

"What's wrong with that?" Asked Harry, innocently, knowing Hermione hated being interrupted. The glare turned to him. Then down to the tome.

"To put it simply:  _ the great warlock, Emrys _ \- that's another of his titles, it means "the immortal one" -  _ will emerge once more to watch over Her most blessed children  _ \- that's us witches and wizards, "blessed" with magic by the "Triple Goddess" -  _ when the forces of Dark have been vanquished, and thou art in the aftermath of battle. _ " Her whole explanation was made better because when saying "the immortal one", "blessed", and "Triple Goddess", Hermione used the most vicious air quotations of which Harry thought any human capable.

"What's that  _ mean _ , exactly?" Harry asked, this time wasn't to provoke his friend, he was just a confused eighteen-year-old. Hermione rolled her eyes, then scoffed again ( _ yes _ , thought Harry, maliciously), before digging out a more run-of-the-mill textbook; one of the latest editions, which now included the war on Voldemort and all coinciding events.

"Well,  _ according to these footnotes _ ," spoken like someone who strongly disagreed with the contents of said footnotes, "it means that Merlin will be resurrected and come to Hogwarts."

"What!?" Sputtered Ron around a mouthful of chocolate frogs. He swallowed them before he continued (all of them, it was quite disconcerting to watch), "Okay, let me guess," he then ventured, preceding a very bad impression of what Hermione found wrong with the textbook author, " _ First of all, _ " actually an excellent impression, " _ dead wizards can't be resurrected, no matter  _ how _ powerful." _ Hermione was about to interrupt him, but he continued unperturbed, " _ Secondly, Merlin would never bother to "watch over" any of  _ us." Excellent use of air quotations, " _ And finally, the last part of the text could be referring to  _ any _ battle. _ " Hermione again began to speak, but Ron raised a pleading finger to let him finish his glittering performance, " _ Not to  _ mention _ that prophecies are very rarely correct and shouldn't even be considered real magic, let alone taught in prestigious wizarding school curriculums _ ."

Harry clapped, and once Ron nodded done, Hermione spoke.

" _ Actually _ \- I was going to say that both the uses of the word  _ emerge _ , and Merlin's second title of  _ Emrys _ \- heavily implies that Merlin will not be "resurrected"." Harry frowned in interest (despite the presence of more distractingly angry air quotes), "It implies that Merlin is  _ immortal _ and will  _ emerge _ from being in  _ hiding _ ."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look that admitted that the young woman had officially lost the plot. She rolled her eyes.

"That doesn't mean I think it's _ true _ !" She exclaimed in exasperation. The two boys sighed their relief, "I just think it was interpreted wrong." She finished, before shoving both the tome and the textbook - still open, for future use - off to the side

"It's a nice sentiment though, isn't it?" Harry mused to his best friends, who both nodded in agreement, "It's nice to know he'd care."

* * *

Just then, a persistent knocking sounded on the compartment door. Hermione and Ron were fast asleep (Ron on her shoulder, Hermione on his fluffy ginger head), so Harry cast a quick lumos to see who was there.

It was a man - not like Harry and Ron were men, he was a real adult - even if he did only look about 28 at most. He was pale in the face and had very prominent cheekbones, and an awkward smile that crinkled his lively blue eyes and made said cheekbones stick out weirdly. His hair was a similar shade of black to the sky outside, like a void, a slightly curly void. The robes that sat on his slight frame were burgundy with golden trimming. He was holding a bulging trunk in his left hand, and the hand he used to knock held a small leather concertina.

Seeing that Harry had spotted him, he waved with dexterous fingers - hanging the concertina off of his thumb - and pointed at the handles of the revolving door.

Harry got up and unlocked it, bidding him entry. The man stumbled inside, tripping over himself in his attempt to be quiet when he saw the sleeping forms of Ron and Hermione. He then hoisted his trunk into the overhead storage (there wasn't quite enough room so it stuck out slightly), and slid the concertina under the unoccupied area of seat next to Harry. He did that last bit with a very unnecessary amount of dramatic flare that matched the man's youthful appearance.

Finally, the mystery man spun around on the balls of his feet and held out his scrawny white hand for Harry to shake.

Thoroughly rattled by the man's - well,  _ everything _ \- Harry just whispered, "What the  _ fuck _ ." And took his hand.

The man snorted (quietly), "Actually it's professor," he whispered, "Professor Hunithson." He finished, quite charmingly (which was a jarring juxtaposition to his previously addressed,  _ everything else _ ), and loosened his grip on the younger man's hand.

Harry did not do the same. Despite his distracted reply of "I'm Harry Potter."

Namely because Harry suddenly remembered his letter inviting him to attend Hogwarts this year (the one with lists of books, classes, and  _ teachers _ in it). Needless to say, Harry gaped at Hunithson, instead of letting go of his (still very bony and  _ painful _ ) fingers.

" _ You're _ the new  _ Defense Against The Dark Arts _ teacher!?" He squawked (but imagine quiet squawking).

Harry let go of the professor and just pointed at him, dumbfounded. Just then, Hermione and Ron woke up at the very-not-quiet squawking, and jumped when they saw the stranger who was now in their compartment. 

" _ He's _ the new  _ Defense Against The Dark Arts _ teacher!?" He repeated, this time addressing his friends (who still looked very confused), still pointing.

Hunithson smiled awkwardly, and his cheekbones stuck out weirdly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what made the updates for Heart of Dragons take so long! My bad! I've got big plans for this though, so stay tuned!😉


	2. The Compartment of Mysteries

Alright, yes, Merlin  _ understood _ the whole "his own name in the place of God" thing in wizard culture...but that didn't mean he had to be  _ comfortable _ with it.

Well… "for Merlin's sake" he could tolerate, and "Merlin's beard" (despite, or maybe even because of, the fact that he  _ didn't _ have one in Camelot and  _ didn't _ have one  _ currently _ ); even "Merlin's pants" for Her sake!

But "Merlin's saggy left one"?

That was just taking the piss, really, it was. Whatever his poor testicles did to deserve this kind of  _ blatant slander, _ Merlin still didn't know, to this day.

This in turn made it all the more traumatising when a random, ginger teenager (probably one of his future students, knowing Merlin's luck) yelled, 

" _ Merlin's tits!  _ Are  _ you _ Hunithson!?" In. His.  _ Face _ . He didn't even  _ have _ tits!

Merlin heaved a sigh so emotive it caused a bit of accidental magic, and a breeze to pick up outside the train. Nobody noticed that bit though, so Merlin replied to the boy.

"Professor E M Hunithson, yes." Both boys immediately began bombarding him with questions like "How'd you get the job?", "Did you know it's cursed?", and "What's the best thing on this year's curriculum?".

It was the girl, who was still seated and quiet up to that point, who quietly asked, "What's the  _ E  _ stand for?

Merlin fixated on her immediately; smart girl. He always had to be careful not to appear as old and jaded as he  _ actually  _ was (hence the smiling and the jokes and the wise choice to keep his more spritely features intact). So he smiled charmingly and answered.

"Elwyn."

"And the  _ M _ ?" She pressed.

"Madog." He answered amicably.

The ginger raised an eyebrow.

"Your name is Elwyn Madog Hunithson?" He asked in disbelief. Merlin nodded, betraying nothing of his aliases. The other boy, with the scar, just shrugged.

"We knew a Madeye, why not a Madog?"

"Yes, Ron. Harry's right, why not a Madog?" The girl ganged up on the ginger (Ron, apparently). 

"Because,  _ Hermione _ , that was a  _ nickname _ ." He emphatically addressed the two.

Harry and Hermione shrugged, and Ron sighed in resignation.

"You still all have to call me "sir", you realise?" The warlock chipped in, eyebrow raised (Gaius would've been proud of the whole display).

Ron shot him a pitiful look, "Do we _ have _ to?" he pleaded. 

Merlin looked around at all three young adults who stood, almost pouting at him, and was pleasantly reminded of his fondly insistent rejection of the use of titles for his late king.

He yielded.

"Only in lessons, I suppose." They all beamed.

* * *

Eventually, they all four settled in their seats, making conversation. Merlin even spotted Hermione's open books, and recognised the written prophecy that first inspired him to come to Hogwarts. He'd always had a knack for caring for children. Besides, Merlin had always dreamed of a place like Hogwarts one day existing; where magical children could be guided safely into an exciting new world; where they could celebrate their gifts for what they were, and learn the responsibilities of having them. Again, he thought of Arthur. Merlin wished desperately that he could've seen this…and met the students. Such amazing, talented,  _ miraculous _ students…

Suddenly, for the second time on that train ride, they were interrupted by a loud noise. Merlin narrowed his eyes at the closed compartment door. It was pitch dark outside them. 

Eventually he heard evidence of a struggle, and some muffled words.

"Piss off,  _ death eater _ !" Came the hissing remark, followed by muffled thuds and grunts. Merlin sprang into action.

He gestured for the three students, already reaching for their wands, to stay put as he slowly exited the compartment. 

He didn't need to walk far, his footsteps alerted whoever else was there and sent them running back to their seats. Except, of course, for their victim; he looked about the same age as the "Golden Trio" (yes, that's what they called themselves). He was slight and pale, much like Merlin, and had bright blond hair which reached just below his ears and was currently falling about his face. Merlin offered his hand and, upon the boy taking it, hauled him up.

He was breathing heavily and his face was slightly blotchy (he'd been crying). The boy pushed his hair back and revealed one grey eye - bloodshot but visible - the other couldn't be seen beneath the swelling. Merlin tried to ignore his blood boiling and quashed the tremor of his hands. He stubbornly ignored the tattoo on the forearm under the boy's (forcibly) rolled up sleeve.

When he noticed the glance Merlin made, the student pulled it down.

"I'm Draco." croaked the blond. Merlin stepped away from Draco, he looked stable enough to stand, "Professor Elwyn Madog Hunithson, but you can call me Elwyn." he smiled good-naturedly.

"Is there room in your compartment?" Draco sniffed, straightening his back. His speech drew Merlin's attention to his busted lip.

"Plenty." He assured the student, gesturing down the hallway to the only compartment with the lights still on.

"Thank you, Elwyn." He sounded more composed now, and gave Merlin a slight smile. It didn't look weak, though he imperceptibly winced at the pain. That was just his normal smile.

The Trio looked more affronted at Draco's appearance than concerned. Merlin raised his best Court Physician Eyebrow, daring them to protest.

"Hiya, Malfoy," Harry greeted him first, frowning in uncertainty, "Long time no see - nice battle wounds." He pointed vaguely at Draco's entire face.

"You underestimate me, Potter. You should see the other guys," he joked, Harry quirked his lips a bit. Merlin saw that as progress and moved to sit down in his seat by the window, deliberately leaving room between him and Harry for Draco to inhabit.

After settling (sitting bolt upright on the edge of the cushions), Draco greeted everyone in the compartment that he hadn't spoken to already.

"Weasley." He nodded to Ron, who politely drew in his lips,

"Malfoy." Satisfied, Draco turned to Hermione.

"Granger." She attempted a smile, and even called him Draco in reply. The blond looked surprised, before he looked down and started picking at the hem of his school robes.

Even Merlin was profoundly uncomfortable. He was just about to voice this, when Harry did it first.

"I know it may seem like we're rejecting you but, honestly, I'm glad you're here. After all we've been through - what with me saving you from the fiend fyre and you trying to save me from Bellatrix and the other death eaters at the manor that night - I at least hope we can be friends. Hogwarts is trying to promote inter house unity anyway, and it'll give me someone to fly with when Ron and Hermione are off being romantic. Besides, you're a really good flyer, and you can help me with potions," Harry looked up from his knees to look at the couple opposite them, "Give them time, Ron and 'Mione. They're just hesitant because they're afraid there's still bad blood between all of us. I'm relying on you to prove them wrong," he turned and looked at Draco, right in the eye, "and I really do think you will." He finished strong. They then stared intensely at each other for a while. Ron and Hermione looked completely okay with this, so Merlin assumed Harry and Draco had a (probably platonic) history.

That didn't stop it from reminding him of his relationship with Arthur, though.

Finally, Draco broke the silence, "Do you think they'll put us into separate teams for quidditch this year? Surely we can't play with the younger ones?" 

And everything melted seamlessly into smooth conversations.

Merlin wondered if Draco or Harry would remember the former falling asleep with his head in the latter's lap, the latter's hands still nestled in the former's blond hair.

He chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think from now on I'll post one chapter a week, while I write the second fic.


	3. My Last Unanswered Letter (To You)

Dear Arthur,

It's been so long since I taught last. More than a few centuries, at a guess. I'm no elephant, though.

But last time I  definitely didn't teach magic.

The first year students have just had their assembly upon arrival, and I was introduced to them there, but everyone else is sound asleep in their beds by now. Their assembly isn't until tomorrow morning.

I'm glad that the school is promoting inter house unity with the eighth years, but honestly, I just think the only reason they all share a common room (and dormitories) is because it's cheaper for the school to run.

Although, between those who already have clear career paths, those who are haunted by the war, and those who were taken by it; it's not like there are many of the poor sods left...

Your father would  _ hate  _ Hogwarts. So, naturally, it's my new favourite place to live. Yeah, I'm going to  live here!

And, yes, I  will keep my rooms clean…prat…

Ugh, why do I still write these? I know it started off as a way to make your transition easier when you came back and everything. But it's slowly just turned into a coping mechanism.

Why can't I just tell you all about Hogwarts myself?  Show you the castle (it's bigger than yours was).

Why aren't you  here , with  me ? 

I spend every day regretting my decision not to kiss you before you died.

I hate destiny.

Sincerely, your hopeless, idiot manservant who misses you so much it  hurts ,

_ Merlin _

  
PS. Please just come back from the dead already so I can stop writing these bloody letters.  I love you so much. You'd like the portraits; they're alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse the late update. I've no excuse, the chapters are all already written I just forgot😅


	4. Enemies of the Heir

Harry was nervous for Elwyn. Don't get him wrong, he seemed like a nice bloke. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Too polite, too skinny, too smiley, too  _ nice _ . Even the eighth years would eat him alive (not all of them had been wisened by war).

He broached the subject to Draco, who was next to him on the seating plan, and still seemed quite shaken by Harry's willingness to accept him in friendship. Actually, there were two reasons for that. The first of which being that Harry knew what it was like to be a pariah; lonely, rejected by everyone he knew. And Draco had been like that  _ before _ everybody and their owls suddenly decided to be heroes, battling the Dark Arts by beating up innocent pawns. Draco had always been lonely, Harry thought, because most of his friends seemed to just be there for other people (or themselves). 

It was complex, but Harry had given Draco a lot of thought since the end of the war. His conclusion?

Well, that was the second reason he'd accepted Draco so willingly; he'd had a hopeless crush on him since third year. He still did.

Shit, why did Harry think this was a good idea again?

"Normally I'd make fun of your hero complex, but I'm a bit worried too..." Draco muttered with a bit of a half smirk, "Who do you think is going to launch the first projectile?" And then it was a full smirk, complete with great grey eyes that twinkled with mischief.

Right, that was why. 

Harry smirked better, "My money's on Seamus." He nodded over to the freckled Irishman. Him and Dean were sitting just one table over, in front of Ron and Hermione. Harry got a feeling that Elwyn had sat everyone next to their friends -  _ too nice _ !

Draco shook his head and nodded to the table directly behind them, where Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson sat. 

"Both of them?" Harry quietly questioned.

" _ Definitely _ ." The blond drawled. Harry couldn't help but snort embarrassingly. Which, of course, delighted his desk mate, "What's wrong, Potter? Swallow a Grindylow?" He tried to ask calmly, not quite stifling a chortle.

Soon they were both snickering away at their desks, receiving exasperated and confused looks from their respective friends.

Then, Professor Elwyn swept into the classroom, entering from the storage cupboard. After dropping his concertina onto his new desk, he twirled to face the blackboard and began to scribble.

"Care to share, boys?" He chirped. Draco and Harry shut up, then shared a gobsmacked look, "Better," Elwyn finished scribbling and spun back around to face his class, having written  _ Hunithson _ on the board, "I'm Professor Elwyn Hunithson," he smiled his sunny little smile, "you can call me 'sir'!" 

He pushed himself off the desk, and began to slowly walk the length of the classroom. Naturally, the whole class' attention was on him.

"Defense Against The Dark Arts is a very tricky subject. Especially considering that none of you have ever had a decent teacher - except for one Remus Lupin (God rest his soul), according to HeadMistress  McGonagall ." He paused, surveying the room with quick precision, before giving a remorseful smile to Harry, "Therefore, your lessons will be strenuous. Never boring," he assured the class with the wag of a finger, "but very  _ strenuous _ ."

He returned to the front of the class.

"Before we begin, my mother was a muggle so if any of you have a problem with that," he narrowed his eyes at the eighth years, "Leave." There was some awkward shuffling and head turning, but nobody left, " _ Immediately. _ " Elwyn emphasized, his jaw tightening. The professor's expression made his face look less like an awkward twenty-something, and more like the God of a renaissance painting. He looked ancient, powerful; his every move deliberate, executed without hesitation or regret. Elwyn looked as though he'd seen empires rise and fall like the changing of the seasons, without even batting an eyelash.

It chilled Harry to the bone, and his hand instinctively went up to his scar, despite the absence of any pain. Something didn't feel right, ever since they first met Elwyn on the train. Something about him just seemed slightly…off… and not just his centre of gravity.

Still, nobody moved. Harry noticed Draco's subtle sigh of relief, which brought an equally subtle smile to Harry's own expression. He would discuss this with his friends later.

Elwyn nodded his satisfaction, "Good...Now!" He clapped his hands together and the sunny smile was back on his face. Harry was almost certain half the class got whiplash, but they were all ears, at least.

Harry didn't really pay attention to the rest of the lesson, but at least he no longer needed to worry about Elwyn being too nice.

* * *

He brought it up the next morning over breakfast. House tables weren't supposed to exist anymore, though the only students who seemed to be trying to integrate were the first years and the eighth years. Harry currently sat between Draco and Seamus, opposite Hermione and Ron, at what used to be the Hufflepuff table.

"Yes, I did see you touch your scar in that lesson…" Hermione thought out loud, "Are you sure it didn't hurt?"

"Certain." He confirmed, spreading jam a bit too aggressively over his toast. From the seat next to him, Draco took a swig of pumpkin juice,

"I think Potter's onto something." He declared. They still called each other by their last names, for some reason.

"I reckon he's paranoid." Ron countered, but around a mouthful of pancakes. Draco shook his head.

"He's not. You all saw me when we were on the train, I was bruised to high heaven."

"So Pomfrey healed you, what's your point?" Ron argued. Harry knew they were going to butt heads, but he was glad they were visibly trying  _ not _ to hit each other.

"My  _ point _ is that I didn't _ go _ to the hospital wing that night," Ron shut his mouth, which both Harry and Draco found encouraging, "Elwyn escorted me to my dorm, and used wandless magic to heal me." 

" _ Why didn't you say anything!?" _ Hermione looked fuming.

"Because it freaked me out!" He took a bite out of Harry's unguarded toast, earning a whack on the arm from the boy (who really just wanted an excuse to touch him), "He had his eyes closed and…" Draco's voice grew less frantic now, he sounded wistful as he spoke the next words, "I've never heard spells like that before… and it felt so warm and...crackly… I never knew magic could feel like that." Ron, Hermione and Harry all went quiet. Hermione narrowed her eyes determinedly.

"Do you remember the incantations?" She asked, already rummaging through her bag for something on healing spells. 

"Nothing, sorry Hermione…" he sounded slightly dejected (was Draco often berated by his friends? Who did Harry need to  _ accidentally _ hit with a stinging hex?), but the brainy brunette looked at him and smiled apologetically.

"That's fine! I'm sure I'll find something in the library when I have time. Let me know if you remember anything?" Draco nodded yes, just as McGonagall's voice carried through the hall.

"Attention! Attention!" She paged, the din of morning chats died down. She began her speech with the usual welcoming of students, wishing they'd had an enjoyable (yet productive) holidays, etc. Once finished, she introduced the new potions master, Professor  Avidia Agricola . Then, Elwyn rose to his feet.

"Our second addition to Hogwarts' various staff this year, is Professor Elwyn Hunithson," he bowed to the students, his simple black robes creasing, "Who will not only be teaching Defense Against The Dark Arts to you all, but has also been appointed as the new Head of Slytherin House." The hall began to grow louder as people speculated, but McGonagall soon hushed them, "As I am sure you're all aware, the House Cup will not be awarded this year, so as to promote inter house unity. However, points will still be taken and deducted as usual, and the top scorers from each house and each year will win a mystery prize instead. Good luck to you all, enjoy the rest of your breakfast." 

At the end of the speech, students throughout the hall immediately started buzzing about Elwyn's position as Head of House. Draco looked the most shocked of all. Harry lightly tapped him on the arm when nobody was looking.

"Alright?" He whispered to his new friend. The blond nodded privately.

"Yeah, it's just…he's…off."

"My sentiments exactly," Harry thought at him, as Draco took another show bite of his toast, "Enjoying that?" He asked flatly, not taking his eyes off the crumbs on the boy's mouth, even as his signature smirk alerted their smooth shape.

"Immensely." Harry didn't see him lick the crumbs off, but he saw the eyes. Those twinkling grey eyes that made the Boy Who Lived do so many mad things. Like when Ron had too much fire whiskey at Harry's "Congratulations on (sort of) not dying in the war" party, and tried to hug a garden gnome, then duel Pidwigeon. Harry would get bitten by every garden gnome in England, and mauled by every blood-thirsty owl; just to watch that mischievous twinkle. 

Just for Draco - only for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another late update, but at least I don't have to write these because they're already done! Also Merlin is milking the shit out of being in charge for once


	5. The Lady of The Lake

Merlin began to unpack the contents of his trunk that weren't already in his sleeping quarters, and enthusiastically filled his classroom with clutter. The Undetectable Extension Charm (or as Merlin called it, Bottomless Well Spell) worked a treat, and almost all of his hundreds of trinkets from throughout his immortal life were nestled safely inside.

After filling up his desk by hand, he remembered he was in a school of magic, and thus used that to unpack everything else. 

Eventually, all of his exotic plants were on shelves (ordinary and magical), and his books were in piles that went floor to ceiling (enchanted so they wouldn't smother a clumsy student to death). So all that was left was his pensieve and his spare cauldron. They both went in a locked glass cabinet, protected by further enchantments.

Although he called it his spare cauldron, Merlin never lent it to anybody. He'd never even used it himself, at least not for its intended purpose.

It looked unassuming except, morning noon and night, it was always filled with water. One might ask why, and the answer was simple, it wasn't to make hangover potions.

The spare cauldron was filled with almost a gallon of lake water; more specifically, from the lake of Avalon. And every night, before Merlin went to bed, he would ask Freya the same question.

"When will he return?"

And the answer was always the same.

"When the time is right, old friend."

Of course, throughout the day - when nobody was around - Merlin would just chat to Freya, and she would rise from the water as a ghostly plume and keep him company.

Sometimes in the middle of the night, when Merlin felt most alone, he would be crying in his bed. And as his tears fell and he felt the weight and sting of over a thousand years of grief and longing, she would sing to him.

So it was that night - after Merlin had yet another nightmare of watching Arthur's death - that he heard her voice floating through the castle, bouncing off the hallowed walls and filling the wartorn school with beauty and hope.

The next morning, everybody was talking about the mysterious singing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter than usual, my apologies. But I hope it's to your satisfaction


	6. The Lively Hallows

Merlin had a fairly okay night's sleep thanks to Freya, so he made his way to his classroom with a slight spring in his step. 

He was sure his students were woefully disappointed at the lack of practical lessons so far this term, but Merlin was trying to build up to that. Far too many teachers in his position had caused accidents by deciding that properly preparing their pupils wasn't a priority.  _ Who was he, Dr Seuss now? _

Merlin sighed as the last few pupils left at the end of the day. He sagged into his chair and dragged his hand down his face; third years - too energetic, and  _ far _ too crafty for Merlin's liking. 

The immortal warlock was still picking Stick Forever Slime™ (a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product) out of his hair, when an impossibly loud  **clang** reverberated off the stone walls. 

Once Merlin managed to lower his heart rate back to that of a calm and rational human being (as opposed to a hummingbird having a panic attack), he turned to face what was probably a fallen cauldron.

What he didn't expect to see was a tall, muscular, blond man standing over _the_ _spare cauldron_ with a rather perplexed expression scrunching his perfectly molded face. 

Given the circumstances, one could've excused Merlin's unusually high-pitched screech. Especially considering that the blond was _ Arthur Pendragon _ and  _ naked. _

Merlin let his eyes quickly zip down and back up again;  _ very  _ naked.

At this point, the warlock was just standing straight as a board with his bug-eyes stubbornly fixed anywhere above Arthur's shoulders.

The recently resurrected man then broke the stunned silence,

"It's rather cold in here, Merlin." 

Without taking his eyes off the man - fearing if he blinked Arthur might've vanished - Merlin practically tore off his robe and chucked it at Arthur. Obviously it was too small for him, so he just wrapped it around his waist.

It was quiet for an embarrassing amount of time.

Eventually, Arthur rolled his eyes before saying, "Look Merlin, I understand this must be very strange for you and you  _ will _ require an adjustment period, but can I  _ please _ put some clothes on now?" He seemed annoyed.

"You seem annoyed." Arthur took a large breath in, and Merlin knew to stop. Hurriedly, he held up his index finger to placate the blond, then quickly apparated to his quarters, grabbed his trunk, and apparated back again.

"Where did you go!?" Arthur demanded, looking slightly panicked.

"Not far, just my personal quarters," he babbled while he rummaged through the trunk, "I always keep a set of clothes in your size close by, just in case you...well…" he gestured to all of Arthur in his half naked glory, "It's just to help you fit in, really, I had  _ no _ idea that you'd just show up...er...sort of…without-"

"Clothes." Arthur provided.

"Yes, yes, that." Was Merlin sweating? This was not going well.

"I don't understand why you're acting all uncomfortable, you've seen me naked plenty of-"

" _ Yes _ , but that was well over a thousand years ago!" He squealed, in lieu of "SHUT UP". 

"Fair enough…" Arthur conceded, then opted to scuff his bare feet across the laminate.

More embarrassing silence occurred (although this time accompanied by the sounds of general rummaging).

"Found them!" Merlin declared, revealing a pair of jeans, some underwear (don't ask), and a red hoodie. He held the garments out to Arthur, who surveyed them sceptically. 

"Don't tell me you still need help dressing yourself." Merlin teased, and thus allowed himself to fall back into old habits with the not-so-late king.

One problem with that was the obvious challenge in his voice. So, just to spite his ex-manservant, Arthur said,

"Well, if you're offering-" before dropping Merlin's robe on the floor.

_ Two can play at that game _ , he thought. Before approaching the king, dropping the clothes on his head, sweeping his own robe off the floor, and apparating back into his quarters. 

Merlin waited precisely five minutes before returning.

" _ How in the name of the ancient kings, do you fasten these infernal breeches?!" _

The immortal was having fun already.

* * *

Their subsequent conversation (taking place in Merlin's sleeping quarters) was one of the longest and most arduous that the two had ever had. It turned out that Arthur had been permitted to watch over the earth while he waited to return, which came as a HUGE relief to Merlin, until the other man revealed that he knew exactly  _ nothing _ of the wizarding world. 

The king was having a hard time swallowing some of the truths that were revealed to him, that much Merlin could tell. Yet, he never complained, and listened as attentively as a devoted student to their beloved professor. 

"It's strange to think how much my father relied on the lineages of his allies to tell him of their character, when nobody of my own flesh and blood ever cared for my well being." Arthur mused once Merlin had more or less told the  _ real _ story of every individual who had passed through Camelot. Including his own father.

"What about Ygraine? You only ever spoke to her once, and at least now you know she was honest with you…" Merlin attempted to placate him. Arthur merely gave his friend a broken smile,

"Even so, it's not as if I'll ever see her again to judge her character for myself," At this, Merlin's expression changed to somewhat crestfallen, and he silently agreed. Then, a hand landed on his knee where they were sitting, cross-legged, facing one another, "but if there's one thing that has taught me, it's that I choose my own family. And those people?" He squeezed Merlin's knee slightly, " _ Those _ people, love me more than anything." And when Merlin met that soft, trusting face, and those ambitious blue eyes, he knew he was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm updating sort of on time!!!😁 Also, HE IS RISEN!!!!


	7. Diagonally

Ever since their last DADA lesson, professor Hunithson had been acting secretively. He never let students into his classroom unless he was also present, and he was frequently seen entering his private sleeping quarters during the school day - often carrying bundles of varying sizes, weights and textures. Harry took it upon himself, then, to investigate alone.

He and Draco made notes on his whereabouts during the day, and both attempted to find out what was in those bundles. One day, they <strike>followed</strike> noticed him entering professor Binns' classroom. Since that meeting, Elwyn started frequenting the school library, collecting books on History of Magic - which was peculiar, history not being his subject. These books joined the bundles as he smuggled them into his quarters.

Draco actually found out that the professor spent his entire lunch hour in his quarters almost every day, and told Harry he could faintly hear voices.

This new development, coupled with Harry's recent discovery that Elwyn was smuggling in custom robes and shoes from Flourish and Blott's, seemed to lead to one of three conclusions:

  1. Elwyn was starring in a period play, the robes being his costumes, the books his research, and the talking being him practicing his lines
  2. He was having a mid-life crisis in his late twenties for some reason
  3. He was harbouring someone within the school (possibly a war criminal)

The first theory went bust because Elwyn was a teacher at Hogwarts, and probably wouldn't have the time to support an acting career, and he also can't have been part of a secret school panto with all the professors, because Harry checked.

The second theory was a bit of a leap anyway, and was foiled for the same reason why #1 was ultimately scrapped: the robes were far too big for Elwyn to ever hope to wear. They were at least two sizes above the professor's measurements. Plus, nobody has a mid-life crisis in their twenties anyway.

Their final theory was all that was left, and both Draco and Harry were about to throw in the towel and call the whole thing a day, when a new lead revealed itself.

Both boys spotted Elwyn on his way to the Headmistress' office the day before the Christmas holidays. Giving a random excuse to Hermione and Ron (which neither of them were likely to believe), the two pursued him.

Once Elwyn entered the office and the double-doors were shut, Draco and Harry pressed their ears to the keyholes in each door. This immediately brought their faces far too close together, to the point where their noses touched. In an attempt to dampen Harry's flustered blushing, the scar-headed man closed his eyes and focused on what was being said.

"Hello Elwyn."

"Professor." There was then a rustling sound that indicated that Elwyn had just sat down.

"Thank you for making an appointment with me for today. However, I do wonder why you chose to keep the nature of your concerns to yourself. Tell me, is everything alright?"

"You needn't worry professor, however, delivering this request requires divulging some information of a sensitive nature, so I would rather have waited to be in the safety of your office."

"I commend your shrewdness on this matter, Elwyn, you've been very careful. But what sort of request would require such a thing? The war is over, my boy, my days of espionage and secrecy are behind me I'm afraid."

"I know that, but you must trust me on this, Professor." At this, McGonagall sighed, and some rustling could be heard as she shifted in her chair.

"What do you think, Albus?" She addressed Dumbledore's portrait, indicating he was probably awake and present in its frame.

"I believe him." Came his reply, in that tone that always sounded like he knew more than you, yet he trusted you anyway. More rustling sounded as McGonagall turned back around to face Elwyn.

"What is your request, Elwyn?"

"I would love to tell you, professor, but it seems Malfoy and Potter have followed me; would you permit me to cast a silencing charm?"

Harry's eyes flew open to gape at (too close too close) Draco.

"Strange how those two have seemed to gravitate towards each other this year…" McGonagall pondered.

"And yet it is not surprising at all." Dumbledore added, wisely. Harry's cheeks burned, and he spotted a light blush tinting Draco's as well.

"You may cast the charm." The headmistress granted the professor.

"Thank you." Chirped Elwyn, and that was the last thing either Draco or Harry heard of that meeting.

When Elwyn exited McGonagall's office, he escorted them back to the eighth year common room with a broad smile. Again, his cheekbones stuck out (but they were more smug this time).

* * *

Harry spent the holidays with the Weasleys, and Draco was welcomed too. It seemed that the war had somehow made Molly even kinder, and more compassionate. In her words, "Voldemort betrayed us all, in the end."

"He was never on anyone's side but his own to begin with, Mrs Weasley." Draco added. Molly smiled at him,

"It's Molly, dear." And she wrapped him in a big hug. The kind of warm, cushiony hug that everyone loved to get from their mums. Draco held on tightly, and for a bit too long. Molly didn't force him to let go, and afterwards, she began knitting his Christmas jumper.

"Green, for house pride, and a beautiful silvery yarn for the initial, to match those eyes of yours."

Draco didn't stop wearing it until school started again (then he just wore it to sleep).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, grab a hot or fizzy beverage, and soak in all this fic. I couldn't think of anything interesting or relevant to say, so y'all get a cheesy drinks bit.


	8. The Destiny of a Great Educational Institution Lies on the Shoulders of an Old Man...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna Lovegood's very interesting Christmas holidays.

Luna stayed behind this Christmas. Repairs were still being made to her house and her dad preferred to do that alone. Even so, he wrote to her every day, and sent her regular copies of The Quibbler to read and sell to her peers. 

In fact, she was in the middle of reading her dad's latest article on the recently discovered carnivorous Wrackspurts of Peru, when she spotted Professor Hunithson.

He was wearing his usual boring robes (lime green today), but he was dragging someone down the hallway by the wrist.

The man had golden-blond hair, defined features, and wore black robes with gold and red trimming. Luna found this man peculiar, so she followed them both.

It seemed like the professor was giving the man a sort of tour of the castle. Perhaps he was to be an additional caretaker - Professor Binns' classroom was terrible for Wrackspurts afterall (even if  _ they _ weren't carnivorous), which was obvious from his classes' consistent lack of attention. 

Her curiosity finally making its way to the forefront of her mind, Luna asked them.

"Are you the new caretaker?" They both startled. Luna just waited for an answer.

"Erm, no Luna...He isn't going to be a caretaker." Answered the professor, calming down a bit. Luna was perplexed.

"Then why show him the grounds?" The two looked at each other, the colourful wavelengths of their thoughts synchronizing almost perfectly. It was the most memorable case of pseudotelepathy that Luna had ever seen, very impressive.

"Because Mister uh-" Elwyn looked around the room, attempting to find an alias for his friend in the objects in the room. Though why he couldn't tell Luna the man's real name was a mystery to her. She'd look into it with her dad, maybe they were involved in a Pollywog cover-up. His eyes just settled on the man; a metaphorical approach then, "-Lionel…" he pieced together. Perhaps the man was a Gryffindor, or was courageous, or really liked cats, "F...Phoenix!" A strong finish, Luna thought. Phoenix was peculiar, she suspected either fire symbolism or themes of rebirth. She really needed to talk to her dad about this…

"Yes, Mr Phoenix here, will be my new teaching assistant in the new term!" Hunithson patted Phoenix on the back, smiling awkwardly at Luna, "Expect an announcement from the Headmistress after the holidays."

She squinted at them, attempting to read their energies but, apparently she was out of practice. She shook her head in defeat, before smiling jovially up at the two men, and skipping away.

* * *

In response to her description of the scenario, then of the professors themselves ("You never told me about this Hunithson, dear…"), her dad sent her an old edition of the Quibbler.

It was older than she was, that was for sure, so Luna read it with great care. It detailed a six page synopsis of the real Arthurian legendarium. After memorising as many details as possible, Luna owled her dad again, asking how this was relevant. He responded with an old photograph of Professor Hunithson, in which the man winked to the camera.

On the back of the photo read:

**Merlin Emrys, interviewed by Xenophilius Lovegood for the 4th ever edition of The Quibbler magazine.**

Luna then read the letter, which said that Hunithson really _ did _ claim to be the real Merlin. Luna's dad said that he told him anecdotes from different eras of history, in addition to the content of the article, as evidence of his immortality.

Her dad had always genuinely believed him to be the real Merlin, and after reading a prophecy pertaining to him and Hogwarts, Luna's father knew it had to be him.

**Lionel Phoenix ** ** _must_ ** ** be Arthur** , he wrote. His final piece of evidence?

The date stamped on the back of the photograph read 1978, and the man within it hadn't aged a day.

* * *

Luna was glad Merlin got to reunite with his king, and couldn't wait to be taught by them both. She wondered if they knew much about Wrackspurts (carnivorous or otherwise)...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, Christmas got in the way a little bit 😅  
Hope u enjoy this seasonally appropriate chapter 👌


	9. His Name? Lionel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god Arthur's alias is stupid....

"Good morning, all!" Hunithson greeted the eighth years that morning, "I hope you all had a lovely two weeks off?" The class, including Draco, replied with a few half hearted murmurs. Which was only to be expected when they all had to work now.

"Today is going to be a little different," Elwyn began again, this time sounding hesitant, "McGonagall is making the announcement tomorrow, but I may as well tell _ you _ all now…" he trailed off and began picking slightly at the hem of his robes.

"Mad bugger, that one. You think he's okay?" Asked Ron from the next table over. Draco and Harry shared a glance, they hadn't told Hermione or Ron what they heard that day outside Minerva's office.

Before Draco had the chance to make up an answer, however, Elwyn had ushered someone inside the classroom.

Draco is gay. That's just a fact he'd known about himself forever. But never had he been more aware of this than when sitting next to Harry Potter, while the new assistant professor walked in. Of course, Draco was still hopelessly obsessed with The Boy Who Lived, but he could definitely still appreciate fine art when fine art presented itself.

The professor was called Lionel Phoenix, according to Elwyn, and had gorgeous blond hair - not the awful platinum shade of Draco's, no no. Phoenix looked like his hair was literally made of gold. His eyes were a deep & focused blue, and his sculpted jaw and perfect pout left a few students slightly flustered. Draco honestly couldn't decide if he was jealous or having a whole heart attack.

He showed none of this on his face. Potter just sat there with his mouth agape like the wonderfully passionate and expressive Gryffindor he was.

Once the whole class (and Draco) calmed down, and Harry shut his trap, Lionel explained what that day's lesson would entail.

"The lesson will be split into two parts," he began, "in the second half, we will practice physical techniques for self defence. This is for if you're ever caught without your wands-" Draco thought he sounded vaguely like a drill sergeant, or an auror. Again, Harry and him shared a look, "- but right now, we have a different plan. Professor?" He prompted Hunithson.

"Thank you Professor Phoenix. For the next half hour we will work on your reactionary casting. You will all pair up, and take it in turns performing a trust fall off of your desks. However, you will catch your partner with magic each time, and with as many different spells as you can. This should help you learn to think on your feet a little bit more. After all--" he smirked at the class-- "What good is memorizing spells for all these exams if you don't know when, or how, to use them?" 

As per the professor's instructions, the class divided into pairs.

"I always knew his methods were unorthodox…" Draco observed.

"But?" Said Harry.

"But nothing. He's just a strange man." Draco finished his thought as Harry climbed onto their desk with no concern for the wobbly leg. The Slytherin didn't know if that was because he was reckless or because he trusted Draco. He hoped it was the latter.

"True." Said Harry. Then he slowly fell off the table. Draco squealed a quick  _ Wingardium Leviosa _ before he injured himself. Panting heavily and clutching his chest, the blond scowled at Harry, who lay in a reclining position with his hand behind his head; hovering lazily a few inches from the ground.

Draco dropped him on his back in revenge.

The professors perused the classroom, assisting students and answering questions, but soon noticed too many problems to solve individually. Draco and Harry watched with rapt attention as professor Phoenix stepped onto the desk at the front of the classroom. They were trying to make the class more comfortable, how considerate.

Except nobody was really paying attention, save for Draco, Harry, and for some strange reason, Luna Lovegood.

Arthur fell confidently off the table and was caught the moment his feet left the wood. A flawless execution of wandless, wordless magic by Elwyn; eyes closed no less!

"Show off." Draco whispered to Harry, who smirked and flushed the smallest amount.

Lionel was still floating, staring intensely into the other professor's closed eyes. Eventually, Elwyn opened one a tiny crack, and Phoenix smiled widely. He winked up at the dark-haired man.

Hunithson cocked an eyebrow, before dropping him on the floor (from a much more significant height than Draco had dropped Harry). 

Draco and Harry hissed in sympathy at the loud thud. Then the dramatic, angry shout of, " _ Elwyn _ !!!" at the man's fleeing form.

Hunithson giggled like a small boy as he streaked passed Luna's table.

But at least they got the class' attention.

* * *

They just did self defence after that, and Draco delighted in three things. 1) he got to (sort of) beat up Harry, 2) he got to  _ touch _ Harry, 3) he got to  _ look _ at Harry while he was all flushed and sweaty and had that wild look in his (very) green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! More chapters! CONTENT!!!!!!!!!!!!  
I'm working on another project right now which is a blessing because this fic is already written, but a curse because I'll probably have finished uploading this one before the other project is finished.  
This is fine  
I'm fine.


	10. The Deathly Order of the Half Blood Prisoner, and the Chamber of the Philosopher's Goblet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unnecessarily long chapter title

"So," Hermione waltzed alongside her boyfriend and sat down next to him, "Elwyn has a new and mysterious teaching assistant now," she looked Harry dead in the eyes, "What's the plan to break into his office?"

Harry promptly choked on his pumpkin juice.

" _ What? _ " He looked pointedly at Ron for reassurance,

"Well, what's the plan?" The boy asked in response.

Harry looked at Ron, then Hermione, then sighed.

"Am I really that predictable?" He resigned to them both.

"A new teacher acts majorly suspicious more than twice within the first couple of terms?" Ron questioned, Harry turned his attention back to Hermione.

"A teacher who has a strange name and whom we met under abnormal circumstances?" She completed for him. They both exchanged a conspiratorial look.

"Yes." They finished simultaneously.

All three stared at each other for longer than was necessary.

"Fine," Harry surrendered. The other two's faces lit up with determination. Harry needed new friends, these knew too much, "we go under cover of night. We'll need to create a distraction, something dangerous that would warrant the presence of the Defense teacher…"

"A bogart!" Hermione announced, "this is a very old castle, and Filch is one old man, he's never been good at keeping the whole place clean. There's bound to be one in an old cupboard somewhere…" she began fishing around in her bag, probably to find a book that would help her catch a bogart.

"Fred and George used to tell me all about the forbidden corridors in Hogwarts! One of them is bound to have a bogart!" Ron pitched in. Hermione momentarily abandoned her bag to call Ron brilliant and kiss him on the cheek. 

This was going well. 

Harry turned to Draco, and was immediately caught off guard by his mixed expression of bewilderment and deep concern. His mouth flapped open and shut a few adorable times before he could form a sentence.

"Is this how you all operate?" He asked, sparing a glance at Hermione and Ron, who were pouring over a copy of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ (specifically the pages that contained the plans of the castle). Without looking up from the book, they both answered, "Yes."

"Basically." Harry confirmed. At the Saviour's nonchalance, Draco seemed to relax, and an uppity smirk soon graced his lips again (to Harry's reluctant relief).

"That explains why you always got in trouble when we were younger," he reasoned in his stupidly endearing poncy accent, "If  _ we _ spotted a teacher acting suspiciously, any Slytherin worth their salt would keep that information close to their chest until a need for it arose."

"So, blackmail material?" Hermione supplied. Draco's subsequent grin could only be described as shit-eating.

"Absolutely right." Of course the reason for Harry's next comment was the challenging tone in his voice. And his eyes were beginning to twinkle.

"So,  _ are _ you a Slytherin worth their salt?" He teased. Draco must've spotted the challenge, because his grin subsided into something a little more subtly scheming, and he moved his pale face right into Harry's personal space. Until he could feel Draco's breath on his nose. His mouth suddenly felt very dry.

" _ Absolutely not _ ." Came the Slytherin's answer, and he swiftly moved away, shifting his gaze back to breakfast. Draco can't have seen Harry lick his lips just then (He did say his mouth was dry), but Harry could've sworn he spotted twinkling grey eyes tracking the movement.

Ron cleared his throat, Harry had been staring.

"So," the ginger addressed Draco, "you helping?" Draco smiled to Harry.

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! Things are really moving now! 😉


	11. The One With The Boggart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not know how to spell Bogart.

"Professor Hunithson! Professor Phoenix!" Hermione gasped as she burst into Merlin's classroom, "Boggart! Boggart in the corridor," she practically collapsed into a chair in the classroom, "Thought you ought to know."

Both professors nodded to one another before rushing out of the classroom.

* * *

They defeated the boggart, but legged it the minute McGonagall came to see what all the fuss was about. They'd made a bit of a mess, what with taking out a chunk of the wall and all that.

Eventually they found the door to Merlin's classroom, flung it open, and dived inside. Collapsing with their backs against the wood, both men let themselves catch their breath.

There was a pause, filled with the laboured breathing of two medieval idiots.

Then laughter erupted from the pair, as servant and master clung to each other (because at this rate they were going to fall over). 

"That was - by far - the most ridiculous thing - I've ever done!" Arthur wheezed, still gripping Merlin's bicep.

"Speak for yourself, I'm used to it by now!" The professor retorted, giving Arthur a good punch for the cheek. The blond immediately looked over at him, still in stitches.

"Really!?"

"Yes!" Merlin gasped out, incredulous, "I felt like I spent half my life fighting some evil so-and-so, or creeping around your old castle!" 

Arthur laughed harder so, naturally, Merlin continued, "Or,  _ or, _ " he poked the undead king, "Being  _ chased  _ by people trying to kill or  _ capture us! _ " A comment, more-or-less, aimed somewhere outside the door they just shut.

This caused Arthur's laughing to become so loud there was danger of a passing student getting an earful - and thinking their Defence teacher was even stranger than they suspected. 

So, they relocated further into the office. As Arthur took in all of Merlin's old trinkets - although some wizards would call them "priceless historical artefacts", they'd always be junk to the warlock - his laughing died down to a low chuckle. He looked over at Merlin, blue eyes still dancing with humour, "You know, you become more and more of a stranger to me everyday…" Guilty, the warlock looked at the floor. He was just going to apologise for his years of lies, betrayal, and general traitory when a strong hand landed on his shoulder. Merlin looked up to his friend, "I finally feel like I'm getting to know you," he beamed just then, right at Merlin, "Like we're getting the friendship we deserve."  _ Gods, _ did that  _ prick, _ have to look him  _ right in the eyes _ as he said that? And so  _ close _ , "And it's  _ our _ castle, always was."

Merlin would've pointed out how close Arthur was, but that would mean 1) bringing attention to a thing he didn't want to bring attention to, and 2) potentially stopping the thing from happening. Merlin wanted neither of those things. So, he just stood there, like a block of warlock-shaped granite, looking slightly distressed and possibly constipated.

"Y-you read my letters?" Was all he could get out.

What he never - in his entire  _ absurdly long _ life - expected, was for Mr. Look At Me I'm So Handsome And A Literal Knight In Shining Armour, to lean forward and  _ kiss the warlock-shaped block of granite ON THE MOUTH. _

The next part Merlin would've liked to blame on the inherent distraction of kissing KING ARTHUR (possibly with tongue, he'll never tell), but it was more likely due to a combination of things. Like him not triple checking his wards, and being forgetful while desperately pining for Arthur's attention - you know, like a damn  _ schoolgirl. _

But, regardless of who (or what) was to blame, the fact remained that four eighteen-year-olds were currently sat in his office. With reactions to the events they had just witnessed ranging from Mildly Amused, to Not Amused At All, Thank You Very Much (You Unprofessional Neanderthals), to Pissing Himself Laughing, to Unadulterated Horror. 

All this in the order of: 

  * Draco (reluctant ex-death eater) Malfoy
  * Hermione (too smart for her man) Granger
  * Ronald (adult only in the legal sense) Weasley

And, of course:

  * Harry (bloody _saviour of the wizarding world_) Potter

"Shit." Was their professor's explanation for his behaviour.

"Eloquent, as always, Professor." Said the arsehole-king-of-Camelot, barely containing his laughter.

Then Merlin smacked him upside the head, because, "Yes, thanks so much,  _ wise-arse _ !"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It hasn't quite been a week since I posted the last chapter, but I really wanted to put another one up! 😁 Just because! Hope y'all enjoy 💛


	12. Snitches Get Witches

"He's unfit to teach, Headmistress!" Said Harry.

"They both are!" Yelled Draco.

"Dare I ask for tangible proof?" McGonagall sassed them both.

"They're hiding something." Harry murmured with a scowl. Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"From their students? Quite possibly. Is that any of your concerns?-" both boys attempted to interject,"- _ No, it isn't _ ." She stated firmly, returning to her paperwork.

Both boys looked at each other.

"Professor-" Harry began.

"We caught them snogging yesterday." Draco finished.

Minerva took a long slow sip of her tea. Honestly, those two.

"Why should I care?" She asked. Noticing the students' shocked gawking with well-hidden amusement.

"Because," Harry spluttered, "because what if it gets in the way of their teaching!?"

"Harry Potter, there is no policy against workplace romance at Hogwarts. As long as they do their jobs properly, I couldn't care less about their personal lives. Besides," she placed her quill onto her desk, steepled her hands and fixed Harry with an icy glare, "since when have you ever cared about classroom disruptions, Mr Potter?"

Harry looked stunned. As if he'd literally been hit by a stupefy or some such hex.

"Professor McGonagall has a point, Harry," Said Draco, dryly, "It's not like Hermione found anything useful anyway."

"Mr Malfoy, you should also be thankful I'm not punishing you and your new friends for rummaging through your professors' personal belongings without their permission." 

Draco had the decency to look chastised, and both boys left the office sulkily.

"Minerva, I do believe that is the strangest addition to Arthurian history yet." Albus pointed out from his portrait.

"I would be inclined to agree with you, old friend." Minerva agreed.

Then she went back to her very important documents.

* * *

As Draco and Harry left the office, tired and giving up, they saw the very teachers they were complaining about walking down the hallway.

Draco leaned over to Harry's ear, "You take Hunithson, I've got Phoenix.” 

Once the man got over the initial shock of having his crush so close to his ear, he replied.

"Interrogation time."

They split off, and Harry pursued Elwyn.

"Hello, professor!" He greeted the man cheerily.

"Good afternoon Mr Potter," Said Elwyn, "to what do I owe the pleasure of holding the Saviour's attention?" He smiled wonkily.

"Just felt like having a chat." He answered with an awkward chuckle.

"Ah, good," said the professor, "because I was worried this had something to do with you and your friend sneaking into my classroom and reporting my relationship to the headmistress."

Admittedly, Harry was caught off guard.

"Er…" was his articulate reply.

"It's alright, Harry," Elwyn began, "well, it's not actually. But I won't hold it against you… So long as you tell me why.”

"Why what?" Asked Harry.

"Why you felt the need to report us." He explained, and he gave Harry these highly vulnerable eyes, as if he were disappointed in the student before him.

Harry may have been eighteen but there was something about this school that reminded him, despite the war, how much of a child he still was.

"Honestly?" He asked, Elwyn nodded yes, "I'm not really sure. I saw the two of you and I just thought...I don't know what I thought but I was almost… Upset. No, not upset, angry, and I'm not sure why…" Harry admitted with a sigh.

"It sounds like you have a lot to think about." Said Elwyn, and he suddenly looked jaded to Harry. And the man would know, he'd fought a magical war at seventeen. And there was something about that look that unlocked a part of Harry's mind.

"I think...I think I was angry that you got to do what you wanted. With  _ whom _ you wanted, and someone that wants you… I'm Harry Potter. I'm the Saviour. People expect things from me. I could never do that…" he almost whispered. The envy he felt, such an ugly emotion but he couldn't help it. Imagine an ex-Death Eater and the Saviour of the wizarding world. Furthermore, both men. They'd be a laughing stock and a target. The Prophet would never let him forget it… Oh the Howlers he'd receive… Especially if he were to be rejected. He couldn't bear to think about it.

"Harry," Elwyn's reassuring tone momentarily let him surface from his thoughts, "I know how you feel. My family,  _ everyone _ I knew had such impossibly high expectations of me. Sometimes it felt like my fate was both pulling me in all directions and crushing me at the same time. Paralyzed by indecision. Because if I made the wrong decisions the consequences wouldn't just affect me - sometimes I wonder if I really did make the right decisions.

"It always felt like I was the only person who could save the world, when I  _ knew _ I wasn't qualified. Maybe they got the wrong person… and the consequences that being with Lionel would've brought, back then, terrified me. 

"But if I could've had a do-over, I would've said,  _ damn those consequences _ . Because in the end, the people who mattered would be there for me. And so would… Lionel,"

Then he smirked, "Besides, since when did the great Harry Potter care about others' expectations? What harm could being honest with your friend actually cause? Because if he really is your friend, it shouldn't cause any."

"Wait, what!? I never said I-" Harry spluttered, but Elwyn had already begun walking down the hallway.

"Elwyn!" He paged the professor. Hunithson turned around, "Nobody's ever understood that as well as you. Thank you!" He said with a grin.

"Maybe your friend will, more so than me!" He retorted with a wonky smirk, ears big and expression friendly.

Harry felt… hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating sooner, I just moved house so everything is a bit crazy 😅 boxes everywhere, no WiFi, etc.  
Hope you guys can find it in yourselves to forgive me 😭
> 
> (Also, nothing gets past our boys, but also everything. Which boys am I talking about? All of them.)


	13. Ambition, Unicorns, and the Night Sky

Harry thought it was slightly odd that Draco invited him to the top of the astronomy tower so late at night, but he wasn’t complaining. Maybe if he wished hard enough, Harry could pretend it was a date. A date, in the same location Draco almost murdered Albus Dumbledore. How romantic.

When he reached the top, puffing, Draco stood waiting for him holding a tartan-patterned tin under his arm. He smiled as he saw his friend.

“Now will you tell me why I’m here?” Harry panted. The blond beckoned him closer, and Harry obliged. 

“Neither of us have a particularly healthy relationship with this tower,” he began, face flushed slightly from the cool evening breeze, Harry noticed, “So, I thought we could remedy that.” and with a very on-brand flourish, Draco opened the tin.

“With treacle tart!” Harry’s glee must’ve been obvious in his smile and tone of voice, because Draco replied.

“I knew you’d like it.”

So for the next immeasurable amount of time, the two men talked and laughed about nothing in particular. They also speculated on Elwyn and Lionel, but it was mostly jokingly. By the time the tarts were all but crumbs in the tartan tin, Draco and Harry were lying next to each other, arms folded - just like in those romance movies - looking up through the clockwork of the tower and admiring the brightly speckled sky.

“I’m glad we’re friends, Draco.” Harry said the closest thing he could to confessing his feelings, resolutely refusing to look at the other man - whom Harry was sure had an endearing expression of serenity on his face at that moment.

“It’s not awful.” came the playful reply. Harry hoped that just meant “me too, though more than I’d like to admit.'' 

Hoped.

“The war’s over, Harry. There’s nothing but the future left ahead of us.” this time Harry did look over. He was right, Draco looked beyond all description.

His face was still slightly pink from the late night chill, his hair was slightly wind-swept and just wild enough for Harry to remember how much he’d changed since the war. But his eyes. Those silver eyes reflecting the stars. They reminded Harry, morbidly, of unicorn blood. Something terrible from the essense of something beautiful. They promised him eternal life, and eternal suffering. Like the more Harry drank them in, the more attached he became to Draco, like Voldemort to the unfortunate Professor Quirrel. Which was awful really, considering that Harry would never, in all the eternity those eyes provided him, be the one for Draco.

But instead of saying all that,

“What are you going to do after this?” Draco glanced at him, confused, “NEWTs, I mean.”

“Dunno.” supposed the blond, returning his gaze to the sky, “Either a Healer, or an Auror. Haven’t decided yet.” Harry couldn’t believe his luck.

“Same as me. Hero complex, remember?” Draco snorted.

“Yeah, well, I sort of want to apologise. On behalf of myself and my family. I decided those would be the best way to do it.” Draco mused, “Although, I thought you might want to teach, considering the success of Dumbledore’s Army.” he nudged Harry playfully. Harry chuckled.

“I considered it.” he admitted, “but, I don’t know, I guess I just saw it as an easy out.”

Draco shot up onto his elbow, facing Harry as he still lay on the ground.

“That’s the biggest pile of dragon shit I’ve ever heard!” he spluttered, “That’s it, I’ve decided,” he scrambled to his feet and headed for the edge of the tower. Harry stumbled after him amidst confused protests.

Before he could reach Draco, however, the ex-death eater leaned over the railings and bellowed across the school’s vast grounds.

“ _ HARRY POTTER IS GOING TO BE THE BEST DEFENSE TEACHER HOGWARTS HAS EVER SEE-! _ ” but before he could finish, Harry grabbed him by the shoulder, covered his mouth, and dragged him away from the railings.

“ _ Ssssh! We’re not meant to be up this late!” _ he whispered frantically. But that was vastly undercut by his hushed giggling, accompanied by a certain Slytherin’s laughter. Harry had never heard anything like it. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, and made him laugh louder in pure joy. Draco snorted and howled and screeched and Harry was in love.

Oh dear.

Harry stopped laughing.

When Draco noticed, he did too.

Silently, he assessed the bespeckled man, a frown furrowing his pale forehead. Harry wanted to reach up and kiss it.

“Why do you always look at me like that?” asked the man. Harry wanted to tell him it was because he was the most annoyingly beautiful thing that he’d ever seen.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” Draco marched up to him now, “but you do it all the time.” he was millimetres from Harry’s face and he was certain he was blushing and making a fool of himself but Draco looked so sweet with that worried expression on his face and Harry never did learn to control his impulses. Besides, Elwyn was right. Damn the consequences, and if Draco held this against him, maybe he wasn't worth being friends with.

“I like you.” there was a pause during which Draco’s morbidly wonderful eyes widened and his eyebrows raised. Harry could see all his individual eyelashes fluttering, “So much.” he finished. 

He actually had to close his eyes, he had put everything into those words and couldn’t bear to see how Draco would react. Then he felt something warm and soft press against his forehead. When the pressure left, Harry opened his eyes to see Draco smiling.  _ So softly _ . The Slytherin brought his hand up to the side of Harry’s face and rested it there, then he took his other hand and ran gentle fingers through Harry’s hair.

“I always loved how messy your hair was. You never cared what you looked like. I had no idea, but I always hoped it would be soft.” a small, private smile graced Draco’s lips, “It is.”

And that was it, that was all Harry could take, but he couldn’t just  _ do _ , could he? So he said nothing, just stared.

Draco huffed ever so slightly, like an amused dragon.

“Yes.” he said.

“What?”

“You can kiss me if you want.” and they locked eyes for that moment, and Harry felt like he could live forever.

  
They did kiss, by the way. For a very,  _ very _ long time. Harry noticed that Draco tasted a little bit like treacle tart. His favourite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative chapter title (courtesy of my Google docs): some heckin drarry fluff dudes 👍  
Like this fic? Well there's a SEQUEL! It's called The Truth (shorter title this time) and I hope you all like it!


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